


Forget to Remember

by Diary



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Awkwardness, Bechdel Test Pass, Family, Friendship/Love, Introspection, Kid Jon Snow, Late Night Conversations, POV Child, POV Jon Snow, POV Male Character, Self-Reflection, Temporary Amnesia, Winterfell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 12:17:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11417808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: AU. Amnesia helps change the relationship between Jon and Cat. Complete.





	Forget to Remember

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Game of Thrones.

The godswood is one of the coldest places within Winterfell, but it’s also the least likely for his stepmother and half-sister to enter.

He knows little Sansa doesn’t hate him, yet. Yet.

She will soon enough, though. Since she started crawling, she’s been her mother’s shadow, and he knows she’s always been vaguely confused by his presence, and now older, she’s started to gain a better grasp of her mother’s thoughts and feelings on more things.

‘This is your father, this is your older brother, this is your baby sister and brothers, and this is neither a servant nor another noble. He calls your father his, and your mother doesn’t like him,’ becomes less confusing and more offensive for her every year.

Lady Catelyn is a good woman, and any man would be happy to have her as a wife, is the problem. If another man brought his bastard into the house he made with his wife and their children, Jon would condemn him for such unkindness and insensitivity.

However, he can’t help but labelling her as unfair herself. He’s the product of what his father did, not the cause. Lord Stark made the choice to betray his vows, and Jon has never betrayed any vow he’s made. He tries his best to be a good son, and he loves all of his brothers and sisters more than anything. If she’d let him, he’d love Lady Catelyn, too.

Theon says she’s afraid he’ll try to steal their inheritance rights from them, and he wishes he could be brave enough to confront her and tell her, no, he never, ever would. He could make his own way in the world, if he had to, and more than anything, he wants them all safe and happy. After their father, Winterfell is Robb’s; he can’t imagine it being anyone else’s.

Sansa is such a pretty child and sweet-natured, he’ll be happy see her lady of her own great home and would hurt any man who treated unworthily. Little Bran and Rickon and Arya, Winterfell will always be a place they’ll have a claim to.

He worries a bit about Arya. She’s pretty and good, but unlike her mother and Sansa, she’s much more comfortable around boys and the servants. A good marriage might not happen for her, and he knows, with the world somewhat hard for him due to being a bastard, it might be just as hard for such an unconventional noblewoman.

If it is, he’ll be there. The last thing he wants is to ever make it harder.

The sound of a nearby bird breaks him out of his thoughts, and looking around for it, he sees Lady Catelyn walking.

Before he can duck back fully into the godswood, he finds himself staring, and then, running and screaming for help.

The ice- just cracked right underneath her feet, and she’s inside underneath.

Getting there, he hesitates and looks between the opening and the castle.

She could die before I find anyone, he realises.

Taking a deep breath, he continues screaming as he jumps in.

He’s not sure exactly what all happens, but he finds himself sitting on the ground and numbly looking down at her. Then, strong hands and arms are picking him up, and various voices surround him.

…

Waking up, he immediately realises he’s in Lady Catelyn’s personal bedchambers.

This isn’t going to be good, he knows.

Warm furs cover him, but he’s still somewhat chilled. Carefully, he tries to sit up, and instantly, Arya and Bran are talking and feeling his head and pressing closer against him and preventing him from rising.

“It’s alright,” he hears his father say. “I told you, your brother would be fine. He’s a tough lad.”

“Lady Stark,” he gasps out.

Coming into view, his father presses a hand against his head, and he feels everything starting to settle inside. “She’s strong, too, and recovering. Can you tell me what exactly happened?”

Finally managing to get properly sat up, he promptly regrets it. He knows the room and his clothes are both extremely warm, but his chill increases once the furs aren’t completely covering him.

Looking around, he sees Lady Catelyn is lying in her bed. She’s covered with even more furs than he is, and to his horror, he sees there’s a large white, slightly blood-stained cloth wrapped around her head, and a significant amount of her hair has been neatly cut off.

“Robb and Sansa have been praying in the sept,” Arya says. “And he takes us to the godswood for before it gets dark. Of course, Mother’s going to be okay. She smiles a bit when Sansa reads to her, and she still likes the smell of rosewood perfume. We put a tiny drop on her forehead and cheeks.”

He feels sorrow and pity for Bran.

Bran is being quiet and trying to control what shows on his face, but much as he’d like to, he can’t have the same sheer determination of Arya, and like Sansa, he’s always been closer to Lady Catelyn than the others.

He pulls Bran against him, and making a small, heart-breaking noise, Bran presses closer against him. “Your mother is strong, like Father says,” he offers.

“Here, drink this tea Maester Luwin had brewed. It’ll help.” His father carefully places a cup in his hands.

After he does, Jon clears his throat. “I don’t- She was just walking, Father, and suddenly, the ice opened. I was in the godswood. I called for help, and I jumped in. I don’t know much else. At some point, we were both out, and then, there were people, and then, I slept.”

Nodding, his father leans down and kisses his forehead. “Thank you, son, for what you did.”

“Why- does she-” Reaching up, he feels his own head and hair.

“Some ice or a rock underneath-” His father takes a loud breath. “Either she hit her head or cut it. Thank the gods, you didn’t. Maester Luwin said it’d be easier to manage the wound and check for more if her hair was cut. That’s fine. Hair grows back, and your sister, Sansa, she insisted on doing it. A fine job, she did.”

He can’t argue. He doesn’t know what the hair of septas looks like, but until now, aside from tiny girls, he’s never seen a woman with visibly short hair. With Sansa’s skill with scissors, Lady Catelyn still looks feminine and pretty, just in a much less conventional way than she did before.

Looking down at the cot he’s lying on, he asks, “Why am I in her room?”

“It’s the warmest room there is,” his father answers in such a simple tone. “You were so blue, Jon, and there was a point where these two couldn’t get near you, you were thrashing so. Maester Luwin, he warned us that you might- well, thank the gods, you’re going to be completely fine. A few days, you’d never know this happened to look at you.”

Frostbite, is what he imagines Maester Luwin was worried about. He’s seen men with amputated limbs, and he’s seen mild cases of frostbite in the servants of other houses.

He suddenly wishes he could see under Lady Catelyn’s furs. Hair grows back, yes, but limbs don’t. He’s heard, in some cases, limbs aren’t lost from frostbite but are forever weakened.

“The worst is her head injury,” his father quietly says. “If she wakes, Maester Luwin believes there’s a good chance she’ll be fine.”  

“She will wake,” Arya fiercely declares.

Gods new and old, please, let her wake, he silently prays.

…

He insists on being moved back to his old room, and Robb and his father insist on walking him to it.

When they arrive, he finds a piece of embroidery lying on his bed. Picking it up, he reads **Thank You**.

“Sansa doesn’t show it as much, but she’s just as grateful as the rest of us,” Robb says.

Carefully setting the embroidery on his chest, he says, “I’d’ve done it for anyone. None of you-”

He isn’t sure how to verbalise it. Of course, he’d never let his father’s wife die if he could help it, but everyone is treating him almost as if he were some brave, gallant knight heard about in the songs, and he’s not.

Squeezing his shoulder, his father gives him a small smile.

…

There’s shaking, and he hears, “Jon, wake up.”

“Bran?”

“I might be wrong, but I think Mother is going to wake soon.”

Groaning as he gets out of bed, he picks Bran up. “Let’s get you back to her, then.”

…

He'd expected Lady Catelyn to give him unpleasant looks, but the wary looks she’s shooting at his father and the others make him shiver in dread.

“I’m Catelyn Tully of Riverrun, daughter of Lord Hoster. I ask you give me information on where I am and why.”

Septa Mordane begins talking to her, and he finds himself removed along with the protesting others.

…

From what he’s been able to glean, once she was convinced she and his father were truly married, Lady Catelyn became much more trusting. He and Theon aren’t allowed anywhere near her bedchambers, and the others are only allowed for a certain amount of time each day and night.

During ones of his lessons with Maester Luwin, he asks, “Will my stepmother get her memory back?”

“I don’t know." Giving a sympathetic smile, he says, “In many ways, Lady Catelyn is lucky. She can still see, hear, and speak, and all her limbs are still present and working correctly. She knows who she is, and she knows who most of her Tully family is. It’d be a wonderful blessing if she could remember your father and her children, but if she can’t, she can get to know them all again and make new memories.”

But what if it was somehow my fault, he can’t bring himself to ask.

He doesn’t have any clear memories of what happened after he jumped in. What if he’d somehow caused her to cut or hit her head?

Though he’s aware this says nothing good about him, beyond being horrified at the thought of causing an innocent person such harm, he finds himself hoping he didn’t, because, if he did, she’ll have been proved right. He’ll no longer only be the product of what his father did, he’ll be a threat to her and his brothers and sisters.

He’ll be more than a threat, he’ll have harmed them all.

If it ever comes out he did-

The wall has taken those younger than him, he knows. His father would surely be merciful enough to let him go there. His Uncle Benjen is there, and Jon’s only met him, once, but he’d likely be willing to help with what he can. Jon’s fair with a sword, and he knows his letters and numbers.

He’d miss sparring and simply talking to Robb. He couldn’t play with Arya and read her stories to get her to sleep, anymore, or help with Bran’s lessons and fall down trees when he was forced to try climb up after him. He’d never get to truly know baby Rickon. Sansa will always have their father and brothers to look after her, and thankfully, it’s unlikely any man would ever try to harm her, but he’d still like to have the option, if one did, to be able to do his duty as her blood.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Maester Luwin announces. “Why don’t you go work on your archery?”

“Yes, Maester Luwin. Thank you.”

…

He’s coming inside when he spots Lady Catelyn and Septa Mordane walking, and before he can hide or run off, the former locks eyes with his.

This is the first time she’s ever looked at him without irritation or contempt, and he finds himself rooted to his spot.

“Hello. You were there when I woke up, weren’t you? Are you a friend of my children?”

Even knowing no one else is around, he’s tempted to look. Such a pleasant tone is common from her but never towards him.

“My lady, it’s best you not overtire yourself,” Septa Mordane says. “Should we go back?”

“Soon. I’ll never regain my strength if I lay down every time a bit of tiredness hits,” she answers.

Then, to his shock, she leans down to his level and smiles. “Well?”

“Yes, my lady,” he manages.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I can’t remember much past my earlier life. What’s your name, child?”

He can only guess what Septa Mordane’s face looks like.

“Jon Snow,” he answers.

She simply nods. “And whose child are you?”

“I think you should ask my- Lord Stark about that, my lady. It’s him I owe my place in your house to. Um, if you’ll excuse me, I must go. My lady. Septa.”

Giving a quick bow, he breaks into as fast a run as he can manage.

…

Later, his father finds him in the godswood.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do.”

Sighing, his father sits down next to him. “You did no wrong. Your stepmother- she’s more confused than anything.” Another weary noise escapes him. “Jon, you aren’t old enough to hear about your mother just yet. That said- I’d never hurt a woman. I’d never force her, and I’d never toy with her feelings. I always intended to be faithful to Lady Catelyn, and but for one instance- What she feels and what you feel about all this, I’m responsible. Please, try not to blame her. That’s not exactly fair to ask, I know-”

“It is, and I don’t,” he quietly says. “I hope you will tell me about my mother, someday, Father.”

He’s never gotten so much before, and he’s terrified he’ll never get anymore.

“I- Your wife is a good woman and mother. I’m sorry for this happening to her, and I’m sorry that, however unintentionally, I caused her pain before.”

Pulling him into a hug, his father kisses his head.

…

Sitting under a tree, he watches Arya dodging the snowballs Bran is throwing from up above.

“You have to come down eventually!” she yells.

“And you have to stop being better at me at horse riding eventually,” is his retort.

“Never. I can do anything you can do better!”

“I didn’t believe it when Old Nan told me I’d given birth to two little monkeys, but I see she’s right,” Lady Catelyn’s amused voice says.

He jumps, Bran is immediately down from the tree, and Arya runs over.

They both hug her, but when she tries to pick them up, Arya moves away. “I can walk just fine, Mother.”

Smiling, Lady Catelyn adjusts Bran in her arm and holds out her hand for Arya. “Come sit with me for a while.”

He notices how she’s slightly swaying under Bran’s weight, and- if they fall and get hurt- but if he speaks-

“Jon,” Bran says with his arms outstretched. “I’m getting Mother’s dress dirty.”

Feeling a swell of pride for him, he quickly takes Bran before she can react.

She looks over at him for a long second before Arya tugs her hand. “Come on, Mother.”

…

In her bedchambers, Lady Catelyn begins sewing. “Talk to me.”

He starts to leave.

“Hold my yarn, Jon Snow.”

Shocked, he can do nothing but quietly sit down on the floor and take the ball of yarn she hands him.

“You once made us all warm cloaks, Mother,” Bran says. “It was when…”

…

When it’s time for dinner, Lady Catelyn says, “Eat with us tonight, Jon Snow.”

“My lady,” is all he can reply.

…

He deals with the never-ending confusion by refusing to think of it.

He does his lessons, he spends time with his brothers and sisters, and when Lady Catelyn tells him to do something, he does it.

Now, he’s sitting in Rickon’s nursery with her.

Seeing the baby’s fallen asleep, she stops reading and hands him the book.

Putting it up, he hears, “Was I kind to you?”

Turning, he answers, “Yes, my lady.”

Her eyebrow raises, and giving him a look he’s not sure what to make of, she shakes her head. “I don’t know much about you, Jon Snow, but I can see you aren’t well-practised in lies.”

“I’m not lying, my lady.”

“Then, why are you so cautious around me?”

As tempted as he is to run, he knows it probably would be a bad idea in this instance. “You’re my father’s wife.”

“And the other children are his trueborn sons and daughters, yet, aside from not being particularly close to Sansa, you feel no uneasiness around any of them.”

He takes a breath. “You and I have never been close, Lady Catelyn. That doesn’t mean you’ve ever been unkind.”

She makes a small sound. “Everyone is unkind at points in their lives. I’ve been told you saved me when I fell into the ice. Thank you.”

“Of course, my lady.”

…

He and Robb are racing around the yard when Sansa runs over. “Robb.” She glances at him. “Mother is remembering things. And she asked for him, too.”

Even though he knows he should be completely happy about this, he can’t help but be a little sad for himself.

Every night, Lady Catelyn and Sansa have been working on new clothes for Sansa’s dolls, and he and Bran have been holding yarn, fetching things, and helping with the baby.

He’s gotten used to eating all three meals with his family every day.

Then, it hits him, if he was somehow responsible for her head injury, and she remembers- Being a member of the Night Watch won’t be too bad, he assures himself.

…

Her memory doesn’t come back all at once. Pieces come back at different times with little rhyme or reason to be seen.

Maester Luwin warns them there’s a chance it might never fully come back.

Despite all this, he's still allowed to eat with the others.

…

Summer comes, and his father stops being so concerned about Lady Catelyn walking outside without several others attending her.

He’s in the godswood when he sees her sitting in the gardens with some embroidery, and he takes a moment to simply study her.

Her hair is down to hers shoulders, now, and though she insists she can see a faint scar on her head when she looks into a mirror, no one can spot any such scar even when they’re standing near her and looking directly at the spot.

He falls backwards when she suddenly looks up, and he knows her eyes were on his.

His vague plan of hiding in the godswood is quashed by, “Jon Snow?”

Looking up, he sees she’s found him.

“My lady.”

She sits down. “You’ve always been an honest boy. I remember that. That’s how I know you were lying about me being kind to you.”

Shaking his head, he considers his words. “I’ve felt hurt and sad, my lady, but- you feel what you feel. You could have done so much worse to me. You- you may not like it, but you’ve always let the others, Robb and Arya and Bran, be close to me. You could have stopped that, if you were determined. As far as I know, you’ve never encouraged Sansa to keep her distance. She just naturally has.”

“You truly love them all.”

“Yes, my lady. I’d die for any of them. If necessary, I’d kill.”

“I believe that.”

Relief and something close to happiness settle through him.

Continuing, she says, “Before I remembered, I saw a boy no one could reasonably object to. More than this, however, I would never believe myself the type who would be cruel to a child, especially a motherless one. Stern, yes, and willing to discipline when necessary, but never cruel.”

He doesn’t know what to say.

“What Ned did will always hurt me. Whether you mean them any harm or not, I’m always going to worry about my children’s place in the world with their bastard half-brother being given so much by their father. All that said-” She takes a breath. “I refuse to keep being the person I became, now that I know better. All my thoughts and feelings that led me to it, they don’t stop the fact I’m not the type of person to intentionally harm a child.”

“We share a family. The children of my blood share yours. If you’re willing, I’d like to see if you and I could become close.”

“Yes, my lady,” he thickly answers. “I’d like that more than anything.”

Standing up, she lowers her hand to him. “Come sit in the gardens with me, Jon.”

Cautiously, he takes her hand, and in this moment, he loves Catelyn Stark.


End file.
